Ghost Hunting
by PeacefulProcrastination
Summary: Logan Walker. I will haunt you forever.
1. Chapter 1

so yes guys hello i have returned with more fanfiction

this time it's cod ghosts and this was inspired when i was watching ghost adventures and i really really like where this is planned to go

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><p>He needed to escape.<p>

_Right now._

Logan Walker glared up at that son of a bitch, Gabriel Rorke, from his place in the pit.

It'd only been two days since the man broke his right wrist and dragged him deep into the jungle, separating him from his brother, Hesh.

Where did he even get the energy to do all of that? Rorke'd thrown him to the floor and beat the shit out of him. While Logan was trying to stand up, his leg broken, Rorke grabbed a rusty shovel, dug an eleven-fucking-foot hole in the damp ground (how the fuck did he do it so quickly? And with the injuries he'd sustained only an hour or so ago? What the hell fueled this man?) and shoved him down into it, not giving a single shit when he landed with a sick crack.

The first night was hell.

Rorke went out to collect food and water for himself, and poisonous plants for Logan.

A thunderstorm boomed in the distance, and Logan's pit was soon ankle-deep in water. He had to stand the entire night which, consequently, meant no sleep. No sleep meant no energy.

The morning of the second day, Rorke greeted him at exactly 5 am sharp, his voice a cold reminder of the dangerous situation Logan was now in.

"How was the pit, kid?"

Logan didn't give him the reaction he wanted. In fact, he didn't react at all.

Rorke growled, forced him out of the pit, and, for some reason, offered him food.

He didn't take it.

His father's words rung in his head, reminding him that the food was most likely poisoned.

"Take it."

Logan shook his head.

_"Now."_

Logan ignored him, and was greeted with a fist-full of the food. Rorke shoved the berries in his dry mouth, and Logan spat them out right onto his face.

Rorke kicked him back into the pit and didn't speak to him for ten hours.

And then here he was, mocking the boy once more.

Logan couldn't see his face because the sun was burning his eyes.

He was already sunburnt, and it hurt to move into a standing position, taking delicate time to balance on his uninjured leg. His wrist hurt like hell.

_What the fuck does he want now?_ Logan thought, frowning.

A stick was handed to him.

He refused the same way he refused the berries.

The stick was pushed toward him again, this time, with force.

It was a warning, and Logan wasn't in the mood to see what would happen if he didn't comply with whatever bullshit Rorke had planned for today.

Weakly, he held on with his unbroken hand.

Rorke seemed pleased as he pulled the boy (roughly) out of the pit.

"Well, kid, it looks like we're goin' on a lil' field trip."

_To where?_ Logan didn't dare speak. He wouldn't give Rorke the satisfaction of hearing his voice.

Rorke knew exactly what Logan was thinking, and spoke.

"You'll see."

Logan wasn't sure if he wanted to.


	2. Chapter 2

hey guys here's the second chapter! i've already prewritten up to the 9th chapter and i plan on updating weekly. i might be changing schools which means i won't have the ipad that i use to write and update, so if there's a delay, that's probably the reason why.

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><p>Since Logan had not the strength or pain tolerance to walk on his own (even though his captor was kind enough to fashion a makeshift splint for his leg) he was forced to lean on Rorke. As if that wasn't bad enough, he would whisper the Federation's anthem into his ear every <em>fucking<em> time he could. It was starting to piss Logan off.

And his _eyes! _He wouldn't stop staring at Logan. It was like he couldn't believe he'd captured the boy.

When he wasn't harassing Logan about the Federation, he was talking about his mission to destroy the Ghosts and damning Elias Walker.

Logan thought of his brother, Hesh. _How was he doing?_

_The Ghosts are looking for me, right? _He thought of escape. He thought of killing Rorke.

"So, kid," that asshole was babbling again, "you hungry?"

No answer.

"Thirsty?" His voice was weak. It seemed his wounds were finally getting to him.

A cough escaped Logan's throat. That was good enough for Rorke.

"There's a river not that far from here." _Did he know he was just talking to himself?_

A few trees and a small mountain climb later, they reached the river. On the other side were a few abandoned buildings and a radio tower. Logan realized what other possible intentions Rorke could have.

He's going to call for backup if he finds a working radio.

_Not if I get there, first._

Logan seemed to pull the sudden burst of courage and adrenaline out of his own ass because it only lasted for three seconds. He elbowed Rorke, catching him off-guard, and ran for about a yard. His attempted escape failed, of course, for obvious reasons, and he fell right on his face with a moan of pain.

Rorke knelt down beside Logan and pulled him up by his hair.

"Kid, I admire your fire, but there's nothin' you can do. The sooner you realize this, the easier everything'll be."

Logan didn't receive the slap or punch or kick he was already accustomed to. Instead, a hand was offered to him, and he involuntarily accepted it.

They walked along the shore, Rorke speaking of the Federation and Logan trying to ignore him. Neither had a sip of water from the reservoir; the original reason they went there in the first place.


	3. Chapter 3

yeah hey guys i'm not interested in this anymore, which is why i haven't updated as much. most of the chapters are done, but i have no motivation to upload them. i'm working on an elder scrolls fanfic, which is about 2,000 times better, and a real show of my writing talents. these chapters for this story are too short, anyway. i'll update whenever i feel ready to.

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><p>Torture, food, pit, torture, food, pit, and so on. It'd almost been a week since Logan was captured, and he already felt weak. <em>So tired, so hungry<em>. Everything hurt. His clothes were dirty with mud, blood, and sweat.

He smelled like shit, too.

Rorke was too busy hunting to mock him, at least. Apparently he'd found a few animals while pacing around and was out looking for them.

Logan knew that the Federation assumed Rorke was dead, so there were no search parties scattered around. He'd have to gain access to a radio, which neither of them had. The radio tower in the abandoned village was broken and the radio was missing.

It was raining like hell, and the pit was flooding.

Logan could escape if his plan fell into place exactly.

Rorke, was, of course, a creature of habit.

Every morning at around 5 am, he'd greet him, staring down into the pit with a smirk full of yellow teeth.

About an hour later, he'd force him out of the pit and make him walk (with a gun pressed into the back of his head) to the makeshift torture chamber he'd fashioned.

Interrogation would commence, Logan'd earn a few more cuts on his face and arms, and his black eye would swell even more.

When that was over, poisoned food was shoved into his mouth, and he was allowed to have one sip of water.

He'd have to act before Rorke shoved him back into the pit.

Logan knew, by now, that Rorke had a knife sheathed on his belt. If he could snatch it when he wasn't looking, he'd have the upper hand.

But, under the current circumstances, the water would flush him out of the pit and he could squeeze through the spaces between the bars and execute the plan. He'd have to act soon

An hour later and no sign of Rorke. The flooding was well above anything he'd been through already, and he could just barely reach the lip of the hole. Looking down at his broken leg, he sighed.

"If I don't do this, I might never get the chance to escape again." His voice was hushed, and he could barely hear it.

Kicking up from the water, he latched on with both hands. A terrible jolt of pain struck his broken wrist and leg, and he almost let go. Tears were slipping from his eyes, his teeth gritted, as he gingerly heaved himself up and out of the pit between the bars.

He laid there for a minute, catching his breath.

Logan staggered to his feet and limped around. Rorke was still missing.

He took no chances, however, and inspected the area, making sure the man wasn't hiding behind some bush, watching him.

He wasn't.

_Time to get the fuck out of here._


	4. Chapter 4

this story just feels like the buggest clusterfuck ever, but i will update it.

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><p>Rorke was chasing an animal when something rustled in the bushes a few feet away from him. He, at first, thought nothing of it, but still decided to investigate. The animal had ran off, anyway, and there was no way in hell he'd see the slippery little fucker again.<p>

Approaching it slowly, as he had no idea what the source of the noise could be, he heard a sharp breath. It was then he realized that whoever this was, they were human.

Logan Walker was the last person on his mind, with that broken wrist and leg of his.

But, as usual, the boy managed to impress (and surprise the hell out of) him.

_"_Hot _damn_, kid." Rorke, who could not mask the astonishment in his voice, stopped as Logan's head whipped around. Face pale, eyes _bulging_ open, and mouth agape, he froze. _Shit, he caught me!_

"You've got balls."

A clenched fist was flown Logan's way, and his eyes blazed.

Even with the severe injuries, adrenaline kicked into his system and he dodged the blow, reaching for the knife on Rorke's belt. His hand missed, and Rorke kicked him to the ground. When Logan didn't get up, he promptly began to drag the boy back to the pit. To his fate.

"Logan..." Rorke addressed Logan by his name for the second time ever. It gave him chills. It didn't sound right coming from the older man.

"Don't try to escape again, or I'll be forced to break your other leg." He chuckled.

Logan didn't find that amusing in the slightest.

Rorke, for the most part, kept rambling on and bullshitting. It sounded like that to Logan, at least.

What he didn't know was that Rorke was very much alarmed at the boy's will-power and strength to get that far. He'd have to be a bit harsher on him; possibly dig that pit a bit deeper.

Maybe break his other leg.

_Yeah,_ Rorke thought, _that might have to do._

Logan was planning something brash. If the old fart fell for it, Logan would finally be free.

The kid made a gagging noise, his eyes watering. His apparent struggle to not vomit seemed real enough, of course, and Rorke peered down at him. His eyes were full of questions.

_How can I be sure this ain't one of your tricks, kid?_

The boy was quite the actor, and, (ignoring the searing pain his body was so used to now) turned his head away and retched.

He felt like complete shit afterwards, but it convinced Rorke. He lifted the boy up to his feet and wrapped his unbroken wrist around his shoulder. Logan took a sharp breath in pain.

There were no words. A pained smirk was hidden. A distraction was needed.

When they reached the "base", as Rorke called it, Logan suddenly broke away, limping towards the nearby building as fast as he could.

"You little shit!" Rorke hissed and gave chase. He could not catch up to Logan, which embarrassed the hell out of him.

_He's the one with the broken leg, not me! _

Logan hid behind a stone pillar just as Rorke sped by.

"C'mon, kid. You're makin' this much more difficult than it has to be." Rorke wasn't going to make the same mistake again. He'd keep a watchful eye on Logan next time.

That is, if there was even a next time, as Logan was ready. That bastard was gonna get it real soon. He grabbed a few rocks from the ground and whipped them at the man who was glancing around.

He took the bait and turned in the direction the bang was heard.

_Idiot._

Logan snuck up behind Rorke and snatched that knife right off of his belt. Obviously, the bastard would notice it, and glared in his direction, punching his square in the face.

The knife flew from Logan's fingers, and his nose was bleeding. He could barely stand up now, and crawled toward the clean, steel blade that rested on top of the dirt and rocks.

Rorke stomped ahead of him and kicked the knife away. Well, that would've happened, had there been a blade on the floor. Wait a second-

A glint of metal rushed at Rorke, and a horrid pain occurred in his chest. Logan was standing in front of him, breathing heavily. He let go of the handle, and stumbled backward.

_"_Logan Walker..._" _

Rorke crumbled to his knees. blood dribbling from his mouth. Even though death was approaching the older man quickly, he had enough energy and nerve to call out to the boy who was slowly stumbling away, shaking like a leaf blowing in the wind.

Logan's head weakly turned along with his battered, bruised, and broken body. His eyes spoke for him. Anger. _Why should I acknowledge you, bastard?_

Rorke could see it in Logan's eyes. Even though his vision was failing him, he saw it. He had the balls to throw him a smirk. "Logan Walker... can't you listen to a dying man's last words?"

Logan hissed as he stopped limping away from the enemy, the Ghost Killer. "Hurry it up, asshole." Those were the first words Rorke ever heard the boy speak to him, and dumbly, he repeated himself.

"Logan Wal-"

_"_Quit saying my name."

Rorke didn't mock him with his snake-like tongue like Logan was anticipating. Instead, it was something that seemed quite out-of-character for him, and it shocked him. Rorke seemed calm, cool, and collected. It was unnerving,

"I will haunt you forever."

It seemed to happen in slow-motion.

Rorke sunk forward, pushing the knife in his chest deeper. His eyes were still half-open and they dilated. His body seemed to sag. The room smelled like shit.

Logan spat on him before leaving.


End file.
